The salesman walked him out to the garage area so minutes later, where the bike was prepped and ready to ride. "Here you go. I've fueled her up and checked everything over. She's ready to hit the road."
Ethan nodded, slipping on the helt he'd picked up at the shop.
It felt snug and secure as he adjusted the chin strap. He swung a leg over the Ducati, feeling its weight and balance beneath him.
"You've ridden before, right?" the salesman asked.
Ethan smirked. "It's been a while, but yeah. I rember enough."
The engine roared to life as he turned the key and pressed the ignition.
The sound was exhilarating, and for a brief mont, he let himself just sit there, absorbing it.
Pulling out of the shop's parking lot, Ethan eased into the throttle. The bike responded instantly, gliding forward with a smoothness that caught him off guard.
He navigated the quiet side streets at first, getting a feel for the controls and the way the Ducati moved beneath him.
It didn't take long for his confidence to grow. By the ti he reached an open stretch of road, he couldn't resist pushing the throttle harder.
The bike surged forward, and the world blurred around him as the wind whipped against his jacket.
Riding felt like freedom.
The Ducati carried him forward, away from all of it, even if just for a little while.
He took a long route ho, weaving through quiet streets and open highways. The city looked different from this perspective — brighter, more alive.
Every turn and shift in gear was a reminder of why he'd wanted this in the first place.
When Ethan finally pulled up to his apartnt complex, he parked the Ducati near the entrance and sat there for a mont, letting the engine idle before shutting it off.
The silence that followed felt almost too loud after the ride, but it was a good kind of quiet.
As he stepped off the bike and removed his helt, Ethan caught his reflection in a nearby car window. For once, he didn't look like soone who'd been crushed by life. He looked... content.
The ride wasn't just a purchase — it was a statent.
He was moving forward. And this ti, nothing was going to hold him back.
Well that was until his phone rung shortly after.
Ethan was sitting on his couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone while the low hum of the TV played in the background.
His phone buzzed. An unknown number.
He sighed, staring at the screen. His instinct told him to ignore it.
Unknown numbers rarely ant anything good — either it was a telemarketer, or worse, soone connected to his ssy past. But sothing about this one nagged at him.
Reluctantly, he slid his thumb across the screen and held the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Ethan? Hey, man, it's Nate!"
The familiar voice hit him like a flashback. Nate was one of his close friends from college, soone he hadn't heard from in years.
"Nate? Wow. Long ti, no talk," Ethan said, leaning back on the couch. His voice had a mix of surprise and guarded curiosity. "What's up?"
"Yeah, it's been way too long, man. I was just thinking about the old days, you know? Got your number from one of our classmates. How've you been?"
Ethan hesitated. How could he sum up the last year without diving into the chaos of his life? "I've been... around. Busy. What about you?"
"Sa here. Life's been hectic, but good. Listen, I was thinking — it's been forever since we hung out. We should catch up, grab a bite or sothing. What do you say?"
Ethan glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a weekend, and his schedule was surprisingly clear. He hesitated, feeling a small knot in his stomach.
eting up with soone from his past felt like opening a door he wasn't sure he wanted to walk through. But Nate wasn't just anyone. He was a friend, and right now, that didn't seem like such a bad thing.
"Alright," Ethan said finally. "Where and when?"
"Perfect! There's this great little restaurant not far from where I am. I'll text you the address. Say, an hour?"
"An hour works," Ethan said, standing up and stretching.
Ethan hung up and went to his bedroom to change. He threw on a casual shirt and jeans, sothing comfortable but decent enough for a public etup.
As he adjusted his jacket, he caught his reflection in the mirror. After dressing around for a bit and adjusting his clothes, he looked presentable. Not perfect, but presentable.
'I'll have to go and buy so clothes, probably change my phone too,'
He wasn't just another guy – neither was he trying to get by… he had so much money in his account, money that was ant to be spend on his wellbeing.
He grabbed his helt and keys, heading out the door. Outside, the cool evening air greeted him as he walked toward his bike, the Ducati gleaming under the streetlights.
Climbing on, he felt a familiar rush as he started the engine.
The restaurant Nate had ntioned wasn't far, just a short ride across the city. Ethan rged into the light weekend traffic, the roar of the Ducati cutting through the hum of car engines.
Riding at evening always felt different — calr, quieter, yet filled with a certain anticipation.
The ride gave him ti to think.
He hadn't spoken to Nate in years. Back in college, they'd been inseparable, pulling all-nighters for exams, splitting cheap takeout, and sharing ridiculous plans for the future.
Nate had been one of the few people who genuinely understood him, but after graduation, life took them in different directions.
And then everything fell apart for Ethan.
He wondered how much Nate knew about his situation. Did he know about the accusations, the debt, the isolation? Or was this just a casual reunion, free of the weight of his past?
Ethan sighed, tightening his grip on the handlebars as he approached the restaurant.
Reviews
All reviews (0)